Blood Moon

So it’s been about 3 days or so since I watched 1968 Tunnel Rats, and as of yet no misfortune has befallen me. It’s silly, and probably more of a running joke than anything, but my issue with Michael Pare movies sometimes seems like more than coincidence. I’m not superstitious, but think about this.

After watching Carver’s Gate I woke up the next day with the flu, the flu turned into bronchitis, and then pneumonia, and I had to temporarily quit the job I had at the time because I couldn’t stay on my feet for more than a couple of hours. After watching Streets of Fire I got into a car accident. My car broke down after watching Seed. I had a girl break up with me after watching The Virgin Suicides, and I bet if I think hard I could pull up a thing or two more.

I shit you not when I say I paused and thought hard for a couple of minutes before watching Tunnel Rats. My father was going in to get the results of his blood work, and some part of me for just a minute or two asked if it was a good idea. I give it a week, and if nothing happens then pretend I never wrote this.

On the non esoteric side I watched Donovan’s Reef which was good. Kind of like The Quiet Man on autopilot, but it had some very funny moments. I also attempted to purchase the novel Romance of The Three Kingdoms which was written some where back in the 14th century about the Han dynasty, and the three kingdoms era of Chine.

Over the years I’ve read stories, and collected some bit of knowledge on it’s heroes and such so last night while doing some research I stumbled across the book. I went to Barnes and Noble’s and it turns out Volume 1, which is only the first half of the unabridged novel, is nearly 700 pages and 30 smackers to boot. I sat down and read a couple of pages, and after some stuff about metaphorical black snakes, and the magic feminine power of eunuchs I decided I better wait till I stumble across it for a few books.

Personally I don’t like to invest the time it takes to read something (especially something as large as that) without it being more practical and useful like social science, politics, or economics. It just felt like The Art of War all over again. You see I once teased a friend who wanted to buy a copy because.. well in his own words “it’s required reading in Star Fleet Academy”.

If there is one thing I know it’s that only total and complete douche bags read The Art of War. Unless it’s required reading of course; like if you lived in a fictional universe, and joined a fictional branch of the military. In fact reading The Art of War automatically kicks you up to level 8 on the douche-bagotry scale.

On a sad sort of note some people tried breaking into my 84 year old grandfather’s house while he was sleeping. He got up, and managed to scare them off before they could get in, but it gives you pause. When he moved into that neighborhood so many years ago it was the crowning jewel of South Florida. Now things are different. I was once driving through when I saw some woman in curlers, and a bra standing out front of her house talking on her cell phone. When her completely naked, crying child came out to find his mother she screamed “Shut the fuck up or I’ll fuck you in the ass”.

You might read into this, and think I’m just a racist, but you try to maintain positive feelings when
piccaninnies are lobbing rocks at your mentally challenged uncle on a daily basis. In the end I guess low class is the same across the board, but the murder zone still expands half a block closer to my house every year.

Speaking of anachronistic racial terms Donovan’s Reef had a few. Nips (Japanese), as in “we bombed those nips”, and “half casts” which is a term for half whites. And of course the real staple “Japs” which really isn’t all that racist considering it’s just short for Japanese, but it is meant to convey certain amount of disdain.

Then of course there is the less than enlightened attitude towards the chick womens. Recently I watched an episode of Star Trek where this robot thing got on the ship, and attempted to read Uhura’s mind only it couldn’t because her female brain was too scattered. Ah for the good old enlightened days. Or at least a time when ones self identity wasn’t defined by Ipods and whether or not you’ve had an abortion. Well I won’t get to preachy.

So you may ask, since I am a man whose hobby involves research into holistic and other such new age nonsense, why this woman is waving giant tuning forks over a bowl of food. Well I have no answer for you, and I’m not going to look it up either. But if you do you can leave me a message.(Skip up to about the 6 minute mark if you’re not as patient as me).